


and the Rapture Makes Fools of Us All

by cobblepologist



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Borderline Personality Disorder, Character Study, Codependency, Coming Out, Eating Disorders, Emotional Manipulation, Fist Fights, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Regret, Self Confidence Issues, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, dennis has a bad time cue the sunny intro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobblepologist/pseuds/cobblepologist
Summary: There's always the threat there, always in the recesses of his mind, clawing and eating at his every thought. It's always close by, looming in the shadows. On the best of days, he just spots it out of the corner of his eye when he's laughing with the Gang, goes back to them and believes, truly believes that it'd never be possible. On the worst, it's always right behind him, closest and closing him off from anyone else.Dennis says one too many things wrong, and Mac leaves.





	and the Rapture Makes Fools of Us All

**Author's Note:**

> so this is an absolutely ancient thing i wrote a couple seasons back. so. ignore that it has no real place timewise.

The first day of the end of his life starts like any other.

Dennis has known that, theoretically, his life has been ending the entire time, every day an inch away from immortality and an inch closer to whatever tipping point brings about the end of the world. He's always known that that day, the reckoning or the rapture or whatever you want to call it, would start how every other day started, him and the rest of them sitting in their run-down pub and drinking themselves stupid. He never really minded. When it came down to it, he always knew he'd want to be wasted when the reckoning came, so whatever happened didn't really impact him as much. He wanted to go out singing. He wanted to go out like Apollo.

They'd been arguing, talking about something dumb again, him and Mac and Charlie, something about the aerodynamics in some Jean-Claude van Damme film. Charlie is convinced the man can defy gravity.

Then some guy walked in, someone tall, dark, and smoking, and they decided to turn their attention to him for some reason. Something about him rubbed Dennis the wrong way, so he makes some comment about how the quality of their patronage had gone down, staring, and soon enough, Charlie joins in. It's a back and forth after a minute or so, the two of them wildly hurling insults about everything from his clothes (they're too revealing, says Dennis, what kind of guy would wear tank tops that thin,) to accusations of drug use, a la Charlie. That one really gets them going. Mac stays quiet, offering up a half-hearted insult at one point and a few cheap laughs. At one point, he even suggests they're going too far, and then Dennis knows exactly what rubbed him the wrong way.

Charlie walks out soon enough, says he has business to attend to, (business is always code for stalking, or huffing something, or getting one of those dumb thoughts of his down on paper,) and as much of a lie as that is, they say goodbye to him. Then Dennis waits, calculatingly, and says, "so you really like that guy, huh?"

Mac turns from watching Charlie leave to look over a him, quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"The guy that walked in. Come on, Mac, you did an awful lot of staring when we were taking shots at him."

"No, I just," Mac stalls. He flounders. "I just think you guys were taking it a little too far."

"Well, I can't help it if you want to bang every guy who sets foot in this bar," Dennis says, still leaned across the counter, eyes directed off to the side as he tips the beer bottle to his mouth.

"Excuse me?" Mac sets his beer down with an audible thud, and if Dennis actually cared, he'd recognize that it's not a good sign.

"Oh please, we can all see how you've been eyeing this guy since he walked in."

It takes Mac a minute to retort, "I'm not gay."

"Listen buddy, you can deny it all you want, but the fact of the matter is that all you've been thinking about since you saw smokey over there is whether he's a bear or a power bottom." He thinks it's so funny, but Mac's jaw is setting.

"I'm not fucking gay," Mac says again, defiantly, finally spitting back some venom. He can see his hands grip the counter, knuckles going whiter. "What about you? Dude, you're wearing makeup, like it's no big deal, and I'm gay?"

"So what?" Dennis sneers. "I like to look good, maybe you could learn something from me- besides, makeup doesn't make you gay, the only thing that makes you gay is liking other guys. And last time I checked, you do."

Mac's face contorts. "I've never liked a dude."

"Well, uh," He leans farther over the counter, looking straight down for the effect. He knows Mac's anger is rising, that he's confused and waiting, but he wants to milk the moment before for all it's worth. And then he smiles, chuckles, looks back up, and there's the Reckoning- "You liked me. You made out with me," And if he looks at Mac, still smug, he can't help it. He can see all the rage cycling through him, all the anger. He knows that it wasn't something they were ever going to say aloud, ever address. But it's so satisfying to see that look, the red flush that crosses Mac's face. Dennis knows exactly what he's thinking about- when they made out after prom, after Dennis graduated college, when they opened the bar, every single time they got smashed and got too close.

"You made me do it."

"You didn't stop me," Dennis shoots back. When Mac's quiet, he adds. "It's your own damn fault you're going to hell."

Mac lands a punch when he's not looking, connecting with his jaw and twisting it terribly. Dennis recoils, stumbles backwards and almost hits the bar, one hand behind him steadying himself on the counter, the other at his mouth. "What the fuck!" He screams, eyes wide and violent. There's a moment where Mac just looks at him, and Dennis lunges forward. It's not hard for him to topple Mac over. He lands with a sickening thud, back to the ground, while Dennis is still on top of him, nails digging painfully into his shoulder. "You piece of fucking shit, I'm going to end you."

Dennis scratches, like he's been known to do, but Mac absolutely pummels him. This is the first time Mac has ever used his full force on him, and while he'd been known to underestimate him, it stings like a bitch now. Of course, with how little he eats, he'd be no match for all of the weight pressing down on him, even if Mac had lost a ton of it.

After just a few minutes, Charlie manages to hoist Mac off of him, telling him to calm down. Charlie's screaming and Mac's threats fall deaf. He can barely hear anything, focusing on running his hands over the blood pouring out of his nose. He licks his teeth and tastes warmed metal.

Nothing clicks until Mac says, "We're over, dude." He's panting breathlessly, but the message still comes across loud and clear. His battleship is sunk, he thinks, but he's got more left. It's a game.

Dennis just chuckles. "Oh, come on."

"I'm done." Mac says this with some finality in his voice. "I'm done with you."

He scoffs again, rolling to his left so he can get himself up without straining his hurt ribs. "What do you mean you're done? This is your life. We own a bar together, and in case you've forgotten, we live together, Mac."

"I don't care. I'm leaving."

Dennis is still on the ground, and he yells something at him while he makes his exit. He manages to spit out blood and the words "blood brothers" contemptuously, but after that, Dee has to help him to the counter and to a drink.

* * *

It doesn't bother him at first. He was angry, seething, on the verge of frenzy, but he still narrows his eyes and smirks in his haughty way, tilts his head up and says "you can't survive without me." He thinks he's going to win, that he'll be the one to last it out and Mac will come running back, begging for a seat at his table and all will be right with the world.

So Mac moves out, back in with his mom. He doesn't come by the bar, only rarely, and Dennis hears from a stressed-out Charlie that it's only when he's called the others ahead of time to make sure he isn't there. He threatens him more after that, forces him to lie to Mac the next time he calls, just so he has to see Dennis again. It's obvious how unhappy he is, how he doesn't even respond to his "hello, Mac," with the well-warranted "what are you doing here." After that, he doesn't come back at all.

When he realizes what this means- no one to peel his apples, no one to check-in on him, no one- he stops dead.

He was so, so _sure_  Mac would come back. That he needed him, just as badly as Dennis needed him.

* * *

There's always the threat there, always in the recesses of his mind, clawing and eating at his every thought. It's always close by, looming in the shadows. On the best of days, he just spots it out of the corner of his eye when he's laughing with the Gang, goes back to them and believes, truly believes that it'd never be possible. On the worst, it's always right behind him, closest and closing him off from anyone else.

He should've been nicer.

He doesn't really know if he could have been, if it was even in his potential to treat someone else right. But he thinks about it for a long time afterwards, long and hard, and he finally realizes that he was wrong the entire time. Maybe Mac did need him, some, but he needed Mac more than he could ever know. It went beyond needing to use him, farther than just the pleasure of hoisting him up only to be the one to bring him back down- Mac stayed with him. He didn't have anyone else. He had Sweet Dee, but she couldn't leave. He had his dad, but he didn't care about his dad. He hated having him around. He wanted Mac. _No one needs you more than I need you,_  his head croons. _I would be nothing without you_.

When Mac is gone, it's numbing. Too, too solid flesh, melts to ice. Like that threat that was always there is all around him. It leaves him shaking and panting. Dennis hated Mac, hated him with all he had, but he loved him once like he loves him now- he only wishes he could hate him again.

Some nights he lies awake and thinks about maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't've ended up this way if he was just a better person. Maybe he'd still be here, maybe he would've stopped with all that pray the gay away bullshit if Dennis had just been a different person, or a different personality. If he was any other guy, someone nice, someone who paid enough attention to Mac, he could've coaxed that out of them, and they would've been happy. Maybe if he hadn't only manipulated him, they could've been together. Maybe if he had been nice, loving, Mac wouldn't think that being with another guy was so terrible.

He doesn't even bother anymore. He's down to one meal a day, sometimes he forgets to eat completely. Some nights he's over the toilet, gagging but not even able to vomit since there's nothing there. Like that's going to help. If he seriously thinks about it for a minute, he realizes that, no, losing weight would never get anyone back. He doesn't care. Mac probably would only care if he gained weight. Maybe someone else will like him now, since he's so skinny he's transparent. Like he's not even there.

But that thought makes him sick too, makes his throat close up horrendously. Brings up memories of him putting Mac down for his weight, using him- shit he was manipulating him again, telling him he was hot, and if that didn't make Mac's eyes light up for just a second, thinking that Dennis thought he was hot-

Dennis did think he was hot.

Hot in the way he wanted Mac to manhandle him. Hot in the ways they weren't allowed to talk about to each other. Like every time Dennis would press right up against him, whisper "baby boy" right in his ear, and feel Mac's entire body shudder.

It was embarrassing, not something he'd think about often, but with Mac gone it was always looming over him. He couldn't sleep with anyone else even if he wanted to. Girls thought he looked to deranged like this, eyes sunken and face frazzled, and guys thought they'd break him in half. And without Mac, the D.E.N.N.I.S. system wouldn't work.

Not that it'd work if Mac was who he was after.

So he had to content himself jacking off at night, curled in some sheets with Mac's name on his lips.

* * *

A few weeks after their initial fight, Mac comes back. He texts Dennis to let him now he's coming by to pick up some stuff he left behind, so it's not unexpected, but it's enough. Dennis wants to text back to ask if he wants him to be gone when he comes by, but he hesitates. He knows Mac wouldn't expect him to. So he stays, and just texts back an "okay."

They've been talking...more. Mac is at the bar more regularly, and while he'll mostly direct his attention to Charlie, he at least speaks to Dennis. It's rarely more than a few words at a time, and they never hang out alone or do schemes together, but it's something.

It's seven o'clock when he hears a knock on the door. Before he can get it, it opens. Mac stands there, a little bit shocked when he sees him, like he wasn't totally sure he'd be there.

"Oh, hey, dude," Mac looks back to shut the door, and Dennis can barely speak. "Wasn't sure you'd be here. Glad you are." Dennis nods. "I'm just gonna get the rest of my shit, alright?"

And Mac walks into his room, grabs an old, beaten messenger bag, and walks back out. He stands there for only a minute before saying, "Alright, that's all I got, I think."

He looks at him pathetically, painted lips quivering. He'd done himself up just for tonight. Maybe he'd hoped it would've been enough.

"You're leaving me?" He doesn't mean for the words to come out like that, stupid and desperate. But his eyes are wide and he can't say anything else. "Really?"

"Dennis we've- we've been over this." Mac sighs. He moves forward, towards a box of his stuff that Dee had left out for him. Dennis had almost broken the stuff inside once, in a fit of rage, so he knows that none of it's important enough for Mac to come back for. He knows there's nothing inside that bag either. He's looked.

"I thought we were- I thought we were good now," He offers, sounding increasingly pathetic.

There's a silence from Mac, like he's not even ruminating over that thought, that he's made up his mind and he's trying his damnedest not to fall for Dennis' insistence again. But Dennis starts to see the hesitance there, jumps at the chance and presses forward. "Please, I'm really, I'm really sorry. Please just come back?" Puppy dog eyes.

"No dude, you were- you were right, okay? I've got a lot of stuff I need to figure out on my own. I don't think I can do that with you." Something in Dennis snaps. Of course he couldn't. He could maybe figure out he was gay, but not with Dennis. He could improve his shitty life, but not when he was still attached to his hip. Dennis is a fucking Cronenberg monster, latched onto Mac.

He goes limp momentarily, wanting to usher out the words that won't come. Mac stares for a second more, before going.

* * *

He thinks back to high school a lot these days.

Back when Ronnie-then-Mac didn't call him every day, sold him shitty weed. Then he started smoking with the Rat, because there was no one else he could with. He doesn't know how they got where they are now.

He was so eager to please, ready to do anything anyone said as long as they paid him the slightest bit of attention. Maybe they both came from broken homes, but it was obvious how much more it hit Mac, how desperate and needy he was, how much he wanted to be the happy boy. Dennis, on the other hand, was so used to being the golden boy, having anything he wanted thrown at him, so when Mac waltzed in literally throwing himself at him, he couldn't say no.

And when that same boy idled around just for his attention, begged him to help him practice kissing- two years later, pressed up against him in the backseat of his car, it was even worse. He knew now it was a dick move for Mac to make out with him right after he screwed his prom date. But that was just it, Mac never got it, never realized he went after her just to get him to fall into his arms. And it was so, so obvious Mac only did it to get closer to Dennis, too.

He's lied about so much.

* * *

 Dennis is drunk as hell.

He thinks that that statement is an oxymoron, because there's never a time that Dennis is not drunk as hell. He's not going to stay in Hell sober. That's all the apocalypse left him with.

"Mac," Dennis tries. He doesn't know if he wants to start this conversation. "I mean, you were always... weak, you could've just..."

"I could've what?" Mac is gripping the bottle tighter now. Just like what started this.

'"You could've stopped being a sissy over all of it. God, Mac, you had every chance not to fuck it up." It's the wrong thing to say. He knows it as soon as the words leave his mouth. He can't stop. "We could've had something there if you just hadn't been completely useless to me."

Mac stares at him, stunned. Dennis regrets it. "Excuse me?"

"Mac, no, I didn't mean it like-"

"Then how do you mean it?" Mac is standing perfectly still, arms crossed.

"You just- it's all your fault, y'know, it woulda been so easy if you could just get over yourself, with your messed up Catholic guilt- I was always-"

"No, you know what, I'm bad." Mac articulates tiredly. "It's all my fault. Just like you wanted it to be, right? I'm the fucked up one, and you can keep on thinking you're a god or some weird delusional shit. I'm the bad guy." He drums his fingers, looking down and sighing. "Can I go?"

"You're not a sinner, okay-" Mac looks at him, eyebrows pushed down, like he's contemplating lunging at him again. "You're not, okay. I am. I'm not a golden god, I'm not shit. Please."

Mac looks at him warily, and for a moment, Dennis thinks that he'll actually stay. But he swallows again, looks away, and turns to go. "I don't know, Dennis."

"Please come back," Dennis reaches for his arm. It's the first time he's touched him in weeks, and Mac backs away, but it still makes his skin feel like is on fire. "I can't do this without you, man."

His vision swims, with the fishes, and Mac stares so intently before mumbling something that is lost to the ringing in his ears. He feels like he's trapped in a cardboard box, but he can tell Mac is backing away from him before he eventually browns out.

* * *

"Mac's dating someone," Charlie says, voice incredibly high. Dennis barely manages to process it, blinks his eyes slowly.

"Who?"

"You'll never believe it, he's finally-"

"Um, Charlie, now might not be the best time," Dee interjects, facing Dennis completely, like she's hiding something behind her back, and edging closer to Charlie's stool. Her eyes do not focus on her brother, but make a beeline for Charlie.

Dennis looks at them both, eyes wandering slowly from one to the other before settling on his sister. "Who is it, Dee?"

"Dennis, you don't really-" She knits her eyebrows and makes a puffing sound, like it's something really stupid, throwing her hand in the air, like it's something that doesn't matter. "You really wouldn't wanna know. You know him, always fraternizing with-"

"Dee," He starts again, more threatening this time. "I want to know."

"I don't see what the problem is, Dee." Charlie looks up at her from his stool, "I mean, Dennis would be happy to know that Mac's finally over his whole faking being straight thing-"

"What?" Dennis' eyes go wide, as do Dee's.

She tries to recover quickly, "Y-yeah Dennis, he's finally, y'know... Not r-really homophobic anymore! But he's dating, um, this really ugly girl-"

"No he's not," Charlie interrupts, "He's banging a dude."

"Will you shut up, Charlie?" Dee whisper-screams at him, facing him instead of Dennis.

It's too late. Dennis jaw clenches, and he continues to stare into his drink. "Who- who is it?"

"That guy who was smokin' in here when you two had that fight!" Dennis feels his heart drop lower than he thought possible.

Dennis knows that life is not dismissable, but damn, if he could just have this one.

His depression has subsided back into anger, somehow. Mac shouldn't- there's no reason for him to be with this new guy. He meant nothing to Mac. Not like how Dennis did. Dennis knew him better than he knew himself, and this guy just happened to walk into the bar and cause a fight.

So he says nothing to Charlie and Dee while they stare at him, like he's the bomb in the bar. He sighs and smiles and says "I'm happy for him."

* * *

 He can't really take it anymore.

Since it's his first instinct, as always, is to get shitfaced, that's what he does. When no one's in the bar, he takes as many bottles as he can carry- he steals the vodka, steals the whiskey, steals the tequila, because they always have more, and they'll probably think nothing of it- and goes home as fast as he can.

He loves the feeling of drinking himself to a splendor, but it's a lot harder on a constantly empty stomach. But it's better than being sober.

It's a solo process this time. Luckily, he makes the mistake of only leaving one voicemail on Mac's phone- that he can remember. He can write off the other seven afterwards when he blacks out. He trapezes around his house to the best of his ability, when he sees a nice bottle of painkillers left out on his sink. It must've been Mac's, from some injury or another.

He thinks of the phrase Chekov's gun when he downs the bottle.

* * *

Dennis doesn't remember much from the hospital. There was a glare of lights and a pulse, but for the most of the part, he's asleep. It's a painful two days. When he is awake, he has to do some kind of evaluation to make sure he's not suicidal. He lies through all of it. He does a good job, he thinks, makes it seem like he just fucked up in mixing alcohol and drugs like that. Says he was celebrating something. It raises a few eyes, especially with how malnourished he is, and they ask him a few questions about his weight. He lies about that, too, and says he's just on a diet. They're skeptical, but they let it go.

He remembered how the last time he was "honest" with psychiatrists went. There was that big glaring phrase. Borderline Personality Disorder. He shrugs it off this time. People believe him when he lies.

He manages to go back to his apartment, Dee driving him there. She doesn't say anything at first, avoiding the obvious. And, as more and more time passes, he knows that something is culminating. He's been looking out the passenger window the entire time when she finally speaks up.

"That was really stupid, y'know." Dennis gulps, and he doesn't have to look at her to know her eyes are drilled forward. Call it twin telepathy. "You could've hurt yourself."

"Yeah," He says, blankly. Ultimately, they both know what really happened. But it's too hard for Dee to say something like that, so the rest of the ride is silent.

She drops him back there, and all he manages to relax somewhat. Takes the time to himself. Drives Mac out of his mind for a while.

"Dennis?" He doesn't make any attempt to move. He's on the couch, curled up under a blanket with some reality TV on in the background. "Dennis, are you here?"

He realizes that's Mac, and he shoots straight up. His heart's beating out of is chest. He probably looks terrified. There's only one thought running around his head and it's that he's gotta hide, gotta get out of there, but he realizes it's inane and impossible and settles down, hoping Mac won't see him. He does, of course, when he makes it to the couch, and he starts again. Forgot to lock the door, of course.

"Thank God, I came to see you in the hospital, but you weren't awake, and I thought-" He looks shaken. Nowhere near as bad as Dennis, not even close to how he's been the last month or so, but it still makes him feel better. He's holding flowers and a card, which seems dumb and cliche, but Dennis welcomes it anyway.

"Can I sit down?" Dennis only nods in response, and Mac sits next to him on the couch. "I honestly thought you were dead, dude, and Dee said you were okay, and I tried so hard to get in, but you were never awake, and I would've come earlier, but she said you were still tired..." He's rambling, searching desperately for any acknowledgement from Dennis.

"Oh," is the only response he can work up.

"I'm really sorry you had to stay there, man, I know it's hard and they probably just kicked you guys out as soon as possible, but I'm really glad they got to you in time... Did it help? Do you feel better now?"

Dennis stalls. "I guess."

Mac tries to brighten up, smiles, "I'm glad! I'll catch you up on everything that happened, if you want, even though it was kind of boring without you-" Dennis want to smack him for saying that, for completely ignoring how the past few months have been.

"You got a boyfriend," He states plainly, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. He pauses, looks away. "Y'know, I had to talk to a psychiatrist. So I didn't go on suicide watch."

"I didn't-" Mac starts. "I, um, I wasn't- I'm not dating anyone."

"That's not what Dee and Charlie said."

From the other side of the couch, he can almost feel Mac knit his brows in confusion. He knows that exact look by heart. "Who?"

"Cigarette guy."

"Oh." It's Mac's turn to stall. "Well, I mean, we met up and were talking, y'know, about me being gay and new to it and stuff, and they just kept screwing around and saying we were touching dicks and shit, so we just said we were to fuck with them-"

"Oh." Dennis brings the blanket tighter around himself, making an excellent hood and cape combo. He looks down at the floor for a while.

"Did it- is that why you did it?" Mac asks in a sudden realization. Dennis doesn't look up, instead chewing on his lip. "Did it upset you?"

"I mean- a little bit," He tries to shrug it off, but he knows it doesn't work like that.

"Are you... are you really this upset with me being gay, dude?"

"What?" Dennis finally looks at him, eyebrows knitting together. He wants to swallow, but it's like the anticipation of swallowing a pill. You can't do it.

"I mean, I understand we kind of- we kind of split up, but I didn't honestly think that you'd be so mad about it even then-"

"Mac-" He interrupts, trying to get him to shut up, "Mac, Mac, I like guys, too. I'm bi."

Mac looks at him incredulously. "Oh."

"I wanted you to figure out you were gay," He responds helpfully. Pause. "That's, uh, not the reason I was upset about it."

"Then why?"

"I didn't want it to be him. Or, anyone."

Mac doesn't seem to understand. It's Mac's turn to look away, eyes treading across the room thoughtfully. He looks crestfallen, again. "I thought you said you were okay with me being gay."

"I am." Dennis falters. "Just not with...not with..." Someone else, his head finishes kindly for him. Not with anyone else.

For a second, he wishes he were still in the hospital instead of here. "With him?"

"Yeah." Dennis swallows. He almost never cries, but he has to blink a few tears away. "You, um, you left."

He thinks he's just making it harder for Mac to follow, saying so little and not connecting the dots. Mac just says, "Yeah, I did."

"I was alone." Dennis curls up more, if possible. "And I just thought it was going to be, y'know, you and me. But I ruined it."

They both remain silent for a little while longer. It's a lot to drop on him, granted, but Dennis doesn't know what else to do. He manages to speak again, "Just, after all that happened, I thought it'd be us."

"It still could be," Mac jumps in. Dennis finally redirects his gaze back at him. He almost doesn't believe it.

"Not with me. You said you couldn't with me. Figure things out." Dennis knows that means everything.

"Dennis, how could I figure out I was in love with you when we were fighting about me being gay? Or that I needed you that bad if we were always together?" He shoots Mac a look of apprehension, but he goes on. "Honestly man, it's been the worst time of my life. Worse than when dad got sent to jail. I was always going to come back to you."

After that, Dennis can't stop himself from crying. He blubbers, and he's sure he looks terrible, crying and underweight and makeup-less, but Mac immediately pulls him into a hug. He keeps saying "hey, hey" and shushing him, but Dennis is just so relieved. He clutches him tightly, managing to sob out "baby boy" and "honey" in return, like pet names will ensure that Mac stays.

It feels good, to cry it all out for once. He was so used to feeling nothing when that overwhelming current ambushed him: love, confusion, desperation. Mac doesn't leave his side throughout all of it, only rubbing a hand soothingly over his back.

* * *

The first few days when they're finally back together are hard. Dennis does nothing, says absolutely nothing unless Mac is talking to him. He doesn't want to screw it up, is terrified of saying something that'll make him leave again. He's skittish. Mac moves back in by himself, insisting that Dennis sit down and relax all day. He knows he's doing it because of the suicide attempt, and he doesn't have it in him to argue with him.

At night, Mac situates himself next to Dennis on the couch, arms slung over the top of it so he can gradually sneak them down to hold him. It never fools him, but it feels like good showmanship anyway.

Mac beams at him one of those nights. "You're my first."

Dennis looks back, not quite catching on. "First?"

"Boyfriend," He clarifies. "I mean, I know we've been living together already, and you know me better than anyone, but..."

Something about the flush that spreads across Mac's face makes him feel warm. "Oh. Yeah, you're my first, too."

That makes Mac hum, head nestling into the crook of Dennis' shoulder. "That's good," he exhales. He smells like dumb cheap cologne and Dennis loves it. "If you'd dated another guy before me, dude, I don't know if I could've handled it."

"Yeah?" Dennis doesn't know if he could live knowing Mac wasn't his, or vice versa. He understands.

"Yeah."

The rapture passes and the choir sings and Dennis has his day.

**Author's Note:**

> i really tried to hone in on dennis' voice when it came to this fic but uhhh. im kinda iffy bc its 1) so old it feels like i didnt write it and 2) is so different in style it sounds like i didnt write it so. shrugs?


End file.
